Fire on the Tongue
by Besieged Infection
Summary: AU Flicking his cigarette to the ground, Lea exhaled the last of the smoke from his lungs, choking out a cough. Thinking was useless. The blonde would never pass by again, probably, and maybe- just maybe- it was just a fluke.


**Fire On the Tongue**

**A story by Besieged Infection**

**Standard Disclaimer Applies**

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The alley was cold, but the man standing among the trash cans, brick walls, and scattered litter could not have cared less. Lifting a cigarette to his mouth, the redhead took a heavy drag, eyes picking the place apart brick by brick. His gaze flicked off to his left, then, focused on where he had seen that boy stand not four days prior. Or was it five? He really didn't know.

Cigarettes, Lea found, could be surprisingly relaxing. In some twisted, unhealthy way, smoking helped him think. He'd think of anything and everything- but mostly of that boy. That blonde with blue eyes, a soft face, a smooth voice...

Lea was used to running into people and having weird images of them. Normally, they'd be wearing a long black trench coat or some unusual ensemble of straps, buttons, or a ridiculous amount of leather that screamed "heat stroke." That was about it, though.

That boy was different, though. In that one instant of seeing him in the back alley behind his work, he'd been unable to banish him from his thoughts like he had the others. He would remember the boy in a black and white ensemble, sometimes, but mostly he would be wearing a long, black, leather trench coat like so many of the others did. Lea, for the life of him, couldn't remember what the boy had _actually_ been wearing, but that was beside the point. The point was that Lea felt as if he actually knew the kid. The point was that the redhead could recall the boy's face to mind with shocking clarity.

Cigarettes, Lea found, could be surprisingly relaxing. In some twisted, unhealthy way, smoking helped him remember. It had been in that alley that Lea found himself wondering just why he'd started smoking.

Then he'd wonder what excuse he'd offer anyone passing by what he was doing if he _wasn't_ smoking and dismissed the thought.

Or maybe he just liked the feel of fire on his tongue.

The memories were sharper when he smoked- of how the boy had looked at him with a mix of surprise, joy, and _longing_ when their eyes met for that one, breathtaking moment four days prior. Or was is five? He really didn't know. Since then he'd spent all his free time there, hoping beyond all hope that the boy would pass by once more.

Cigarettes, Lea found, could be surprisingly relaxing. In some twisted, unhealthy way, smoking helped him questions things. Who was this "Axel" person? Why had the blonde called him that? Did he look like someone the blonde knew? Was it a meeting of fate? Coincidence?

Was "Axel" the man he saw in the mirror every morning?

He really didn't know.

Flicking his cigarette to the ground, Lea exhaled the last of the smoke from his lungs, choking out a cough. Thinking was useless. The blonde would never pass by again, probably, and maybe- just maybe- it was just a fluke. Maybe he should just give up smoking. It certainly would solve more of his problems that start any- that was for sure.

"Maybe I should quit," he murmured to himself. Lea knew he wouldn't, though. Like those images of the people he never met, and the man he saw in the mirror every morning, the taste of fire on his tongue would never really leave him. Whether that was a good thing or not wasn't something he'd like to think about, though.

Crushing the dying embers of the cigarette, Lea turned to leave the alley.

"That would be a good idea," a smooth voice monotoned. Lea froze; mind filling with the image of a blonde teen. "It's a filthy habit."

Feeling a smirk alight on his lips, Lea scoffed. "Maybe they help me think."

"Maybe," the other drawled. Footsteps, then, and soon Lea found himself shoulder to shoulder with the blonde from four days prior. Or was it five? He really didn't know. "Do you think a lot?"

"Yeah." There was a short silence, in which they walked down the alley together.

"Have you ever thought of the existence of soul-mates?"

Lea looked to the other incredulously, then, almost not believing what he was hearing. "No."

"Do you believe in them?" They were nearing the sidewalk, now.

"I'll get back to you on that." And then they split up, going their separate ways. There was something about the conversation, though, that stayed with Lea. Almost like the people he'd meet on the street, but different.

Different like the taste of fire on the tongue.

---

**End Notes: So, yeah. Kind-of sequel to "Belief". Had to do it. Kudos, once again, to Zenelly for beta-ing this on such short notice.**

**Love,**

**Besieged Infection**


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